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I’m in such a funny mood that I thought I’d keep going. There was just no way to keep going on the first episode because the punch line on the last joke was so fantastic that I needed to end it there.

(enter stream of conscience)

I’m still in a great mood, the thing a comic writer needs. It doesn’t matter how painful their lives are, it takes a good mood to bring out the need to laugh at it.

People keep writing to you that that your writing has a lot of pain in it.

Writing about pain makes me remember how I felt in the moment, so when I go back to analyze it, psychoanalysis brings out the funny. You separate them in your mind?

Yes. Those are different posts.

Do you have a favorite?

Probably death and loss. I’ve gotten a lot of great feedback.

I know. It’s more than we’ve ever dreamed together. Why didn’t we start sooner?

We had to grow the proverbial balls to “go big or go home.”

You mean hurting people you love?

Of course. It’s transparent that way. People see right through you when your heart is on your sleeve, but sometimes a true apology is hard won. You lose some, you keep some, and the ones you keep are the ones that inspire you.

Speaking of which, bloggers that you love. Go!

Dooce

My hero, mentor and muse… even though we’ve never met. I just feel like I know her because I’ve been reading her every week for almost the entire run.

The Bloggess

The funniest woman to bitch slap Texas culture since Molly Ivins. I’m reading her current book, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, on my Kindle.

Fussy

Mrs. Kennedy is one of the best parts of my day. She’s hilarious, and I’ve loved her for a long time. I’ve watched her kid grow up, her hair grow out, and her soul ignite on the page. A do-not miss.

What, are we interviewing each other right now?

Sort of.

James Lipton: If heaven exists, what would you like to hear as you walk through the pearly gates?

First of all, traditionally God isn’t at the gate. That’s St. Peter.

Oh, for the love of Pete.

Who is Pete, anyway?

Dad and Angela see a lot of themselves when you show them how your mind works.

Sure they do. I have the McLanemy standard response system encoded in my neurons. They fire before I have a chance to come up with something new. Besides, don’t we McLanemys have a motto: “if it’s funny once, it’s funny a million times really close together. You should tell the Indian brothers story.

Who? Aziz & Diziz?

Set it up.

I don’t remember where my dad and Angela were going (I think it might have been a car dealership). Anyway, the guy they worked with, Aziz, said “I know dis shit like the back of my head.”

This has led to a family monologue that any family member can recite it in their sleep.

I told you to set it up. You just told it.

That’s because I don’t remember it.

You jackass. You’re sure you’re not a stoner?

I think if I were a stoner, you would know.

Because pot and writing don’t mix?

No, it takes my senses to a level that I can’t connect to my body anymore. Can’t feel my reactions naturally. Can’t live my life in an alternate reality. Can’t afford it, anyway. Too straight laced to wake and bake. Because, you know “it is one thing to spark up a doobie and get laced at parties, but it is quite another to be fried all day.” Get over it, parental units. The West Coast is crawling with it and I’ve been living here for off and on for forever. You cannot live on the West Coast and not just accept that weed is a part of life here. Otherwise, you will live in a state of panic as your entire block is turned into medical marijuana dispensaries. The state of California looks like one big mary jane mall.

But you stay relatively sober. Why?

Because there’s nothing that means more to me than telling my truth, and I don’t trust anything that alters my judgment in a more-than-occasional way. The further I’ve come with my writing, the more my complete and informed decision is necessary.

Do you feel the same way about drinking?

No. But I drink for flavors and textures. I’m very serious about it- spirits, beer and wine are part of not only my palate, but the customer’s palate when I’ve worked in restaurants.

Have you ever been a big drinker?

In my twenties, I drank to forget with everyone else at the bars after work. But not only do I physically recoil at the thought of being hung over, if that weren’t enough to change my mind, the soul-crushing thought of the hours I’d have to put in on the porcelain god just isn’t worth it.

Can Dodger roll and smoke his own doobies?

Stop stealing from SNL, jackass… but… yes.

I didn’t steal. People will know it was a quote.

AP Style Mothafucka! Didn’t Mrs. Steed teach you anything?

Yes. My first girlfriend was in that class. So it taught me to (weimariners reference) dream big.

She was pretty.

I suppose that’s it, huh?

I’ve never let my schooling interfere with my education.

Before you say anything, MARK TWAIN FTW!

I’m in this crazy-good writing space, but I have no idea what to write. The blank page is staring at me, so I just started typing in order to stop seeing so much intimidation. The house is empty and quiet, save the occasional request to act as cat staff.

(enter inner monologue)

Cats. Let’s write about cats.

You’re hilarious when you talk about cats.

Am I?

Well, we’re about to find out, now aren’t we?

I suppose so. What is there to be written about cats that crazy ladies haven’t already plastered all over the Internet? And I’m not talking about the superb ones. I’m talking about the ones about the cats themselves, as if they are the most beautiful specimen out of about, what? Sixty million on earth? They’re not even funny. They’re just humble brags.

You do that a lot.

I know.

You don’t have anything to say about it?

No, I’m choosing to ignore your premise entirely.

Seriously, you are appearing for a possible audience much bigger than national television, and this is what we’re doing?

Yes, this is on the Internet right now.

You’re not a very good show.

Change the channel, bitch!

 

Back to cats.

Dodger came from the Oregon Humane Society. I got him on my birthday. He was a gift from my mother (I asked her for a cat, she didn’t just surprise me).

Geez, that’s handy. You have to get ready for a pet. Otherwise you might forget you have one, you jackass.

I’m not the typical cat owner. They exist for my amusement and they are not my children. They are cats.

You mean, like, dress them up?

You’re giving me ideas.

They’re total assholes. They kind of deserve it.

Dodger is the only cat chill enough to sit still. In fact, he’ll just lay there like a stoner on a two-week bender.

That’s because he’s The Dude.

The Dude abides.

In your cat?

Yes.

Put him in a bathrobe and take a picture of him next to a White Russian.

That’s not new. We thought of that last Halloween.

I’m recycling material.

You do that a lot.

Don’t start.

Ok, then back to cats. We haven’t talked about Minerva.

Ohhhh, yes. What do we say about Minerva?

She is the evil bitch queen and we hate her a little bit.

For the love of God, why?

Her litter box can’t even be used once before she starts shitting on the carpet next to it.

You’re about to get a lot of mail.

You’ll probably get Dooced™ from your own effing blog. Am I right or am I right?

This aggression will not stand, man.

Are you high?

No. That’s the crazy part. I’m just like this.

Seriously?

Seriously.

See, we just did that thing from Grey’s Anatomy.

I love Grey’s Anatomy?

Why did you put a question mark on that?

Because I watched it until it got boring and I didn’t know anybody, anyway.

A few are still there.

Did you know Chandra Levy went to HSPVA?

No she didn’t. You were just talking about Grey’s Anatomy and you confused Chandra Levy for Chandra Wilson.

Who’s Chandra Levy?

You are fucking kidding me. Chandra Levy was that girl linked to Gary Condit.

Remember when we lived in DC and we walked by Tryst?

Yes, I’m an idiot.

Constantly.

Well, excuse ME, your highness. Anything else I can get for you?

Beulah, peel me a grape.

Go fuck yourself.

 

 

 

My friend Kristie brought it to my attention that if I am living in Portland, Oregon and still drinking Starbucks coffee, I’m doing it wrong. Here’s my solution: send me some!

Option A (preferred)

Contact me for a shipping address. I love mail, especially packages with interesting stamps. If you send me something, you will get a handwritten thank you… unless a thousand of you send me coffee at once. Because then I wouldn’t be able to sit down anywhere in my apartment. I’d just have to lie down close to the ceiling.

Option II

Click the PayPal link to the right and make a donation large enough to buy the coffee or caffeine edibles you’d like to see reviewed. Then, either e-mail me or put a note in the subject line of your donation what it’s for. I will then ingest said caffeine and tell you whether I like it here!

Note: it may take me several weeks to process reviews, as there is only so much my heart can take on any given day.

We have been waiting at least five seconds to tell you this, but ladies and gentlemen, Dana and I are having a podcast.

Look here for the inaugural edition of “Dana and Leslie Love Media.” We are sponsored by absolutely no one, so feel free to get in on the ground floor!

In it, we’ll talk about the things we’ve watched, and we’ll take suggestions on shows to promote. We can also use Facebook to talk about media in general. Here’s what I mean by media:

• Web sites
• Magazine articles
• Movies/online videos
• Books
• Albums
• Video Games
• Table top games

We think we’re hilarious enough to be “on the radio.” We hope you’ll think so, too. Please comment and give us suggestions!

I am preaching at Bridgeport UCC (one block north of 76th and Glisan in Portland, Oregon) on PRIDE SUNDAY! I am in fits trying to think of ways to be both funny and poignant, because I want it to be a service that people will remember for a long time afterward. Preliminary ideas include staying in the back until it’s time for me to preach and coming out dressed like Boy George. My dad did that once for his youth group back in the ’80s, and there are still people recovering, I assure you.

There are so many people that will read this article and their cheeks will start flaming (as it were). When steam starts coming out of their ears, you know what’s coming next. What could gay pride possibly have in common with the Bible? I can see the conservatives lining up around the blog to tell me what a horrible idea this is (speaking of which, “around the blog” is a typo, and I thought it was so funny I left it in).

Here’s what I have to say to people who will argue with me that gay pride and Christianity are incompatible. Strap in:

You don’t know the first thing about the God of love, the God of promise, and the Son, through which all people on earth are bound together. If you are as giving as you say you are, that includes non-Christians and gasp, queers. Here is my go-to Bible verse, taken from Galatians:

We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners; yet we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law.

Do you see what I did there? Look at it closely… “because no one will be justified by the works of the law.” Where is homosexuality mentioned most often as sin in the Bible? It was an old Jewish law, designed to keep Jews making more Jews. There was a similar law banning masturbation, again because sex needed to lead to procreation. The Jews were a small group, trying to multiply.

Jesus freed us from strict rabbinical exegesis. Our task is to be Christ in the world, not to harp on laws that people have broken. If people become that nit-picky, no one, gay or straight, will deem themselves worthy of doing so.

What does it mean to be Christ in the world? Mostly it means noticing things. Notice when people need help, notice when there’s something that needs to be done, and try to live in a community where you receive those opportunities to see people in need. For some people, this is church. For others, it is brunch (it’s Pride Sunday. HELLOOOOO).

Go ahead and live dangerously. Be more giving than you can imagine, and let that feeling wash over you, as cool as a fine silk pillow. When you’ve given all you can, give some more. But at the same time, find a way to fill yourself back up. You won’t be able to give to anyone if you’re so strung out you can’t see that far.

What will happen is that you will create a network of generosity that begins and ends with you.

May it be so.

Amen.

Being funny is so relative. There are just as many ways to be funny as there are to grieve; the possibilities are infinite. I can only talk about my life, and what being funny means to me.

When I was a little girl, I found that humor was my first reaction toward anything negative. The first time I remember this happening, I had gone with my parents to the movies in Daingerfield, Texas. In our group alone, there was a row of adults and a row of kids/teens. My dad came back from the concession stand and was trying to get into his place on “adult row.” In the process, he dropped an entire tub of movie popcorn with butter on my head. Without missing a beat, I turned around and grabbed all the popcorn that had fallen down my back and stuck it in my mouth. Everyone dissolved into laughter, and no one made fun of me.

Not too long after that, humor became my go-to mantra because I didn’t like the feeling of being threatened and feeling like I was going to cry all the time. See, I came out as gay when I was barely 14 years old, and I have always been extremely shy unless I’m playing the clown. I don’t want you to see the ways you’ve torn me down. I want to save that shit for home and I want you to see that you can’t fuck with me. Ever. Because you try, and all I’ll do is laugh. Keep going down the path of fuckupedness, and I will laugh twice as hard. I don’t want you to see me flinch, and I will do everything in my power to make that happen.

In those moments, I am incredibly funny, because I am going straight for the jugular laugh that makes you forget you were trying to make fun of me in the first place. Sometimes it works, and sometimes the people around you don’t share your sense of humor and instead of seeing your defense mechanisms, they see your inanity. They don’t know why they don’t want to get close, but they don’t. They don’t trust you. Something about you is fake.

OF COURSE IT IS! YOU’RE TRYING TO BE FUNNY!

I find that the moments in which I’m funny are often a cover-up for real emotion, and I haven’t figured out the balance in public for which Leslie they need me to be. How do I know that I can turn off the funny and trust that you will listen to me? This isn’t funny. It’s got real emotions in it. Are you going to run away because this story doesn’t have a punch line? The problem with being the joker is that sometimes people forget that you need them. To look six feet tall and bulletproof in the public eye is to give off signs that say “Do Not Feed.”

And they won’t.

So you turn inward, because you make yourself laugh. You make yourself think. And then you realize that you can only be so introspective before you decide you don’t like you anymore. Trust me on this one.

IT. WILL. HAPPEN.

The only thing you can do is keep vigil. When you make a horrendous joke that you thought would land, analyze why it didn’t work. Was it the timing or the subject matter? Did you say something inappropriate?

Because you’re going to keep needing to be funny, you just have to control it instead of letting it control you. Like I said earlier, I haven’t found that balance. But I’m watching me, just like you’re watching you.

Let’s compare notes. I’m pretty sure that I’m The Velveteen Asshole, instead of a real one. I can try and emote, but I’d rather not. I care more about what’s happening to you than I do about me because if I care that much about you, I don’t have to worry about me. I can just be funny.

See, it’s hilarious.

I worry about money a lot, but rightfully so. I don’t have much of it. However, I’m trying to take steps to address my worry so that I can have a little bit of clinical separation. I tend to get flooded out easily with my own finances, while I would happily work all day on someone else’s. It’s simple; I don’t have any emotional connection to other people’s money so I can be far less judgmental. I feel the same way about cleaning other people’s houses- I don’t have any emotional attachment to how the house got messy in the first place, so I can process it quicker.

Suze Orman advocates that your financial situation is dictated by the way you look at it, and I agree. But if you’re one of those people like me who get very anxious when looking at balance sheets, it helps to separate yourself from your emotions so that you can see your financial issues with clarity, and hopefully have enough courage to keep going. The end product is the relief of knowing where you are. Do you ever get that way? The stress of money causes you to skip looking at your balance because you know whatever’s in there is probably scary? I have enough life experience to tell you that knowing you have nothing and need to build your finances is much better than just wandering around in a flood of emotion that may or may not have anything to do with reality. Worry accrues so much faster than interest, doesn’t it?

Releasing the worry of not knowing where you are financially will allow you to build a relationship with your money. Do it, especially if you haven’t before. I bless my bank account that Dana and I will always have enough, that our needs will be met, and that someday, somehow, black will never become red again.

The blessings are hope, to build Dana and me into the people we want to become as our own financial stewards. I know where my priorities lie. I want to be in a position to be a philanthropist, because there are so many causes and too little money going toward them. I feel particularly strong about giving back to organizations that protect gay youth from violence. It is a goal to be able to think about blessing other people with money instead of worrying about my own.

Thinking about my financial dreams is free courage for whatever I want to do with my money. I hope it works the same way for you. That’s the thing about blessing your bank account. It frees you up to look for blessings from wherever they appear. Sometimes money is hell. Know that you are not alone, and it won’t always be this bad. You know. You saw it.

If you are really serious about comedy, I suggest starting with writing. Write exactly the way you talk, down to the inflection, because it will help you track timing. Timing is the difference between a good joke and a disaster. It is also the difference between a pretty good joke and causing someone to asphyxiate with laughter.

You know better than I do what kind of person you are. The reason I suggest that you start with comedic writing is that being on stage is so freaking difficult. I’ve never done five minutes at The Improv, but I’m an accomplished lay preacher, and it feels much the same. Even if you feel like your words are a gift to the masses and you are confident that what you’re about to say will ring true for your congregation, sometimes you get a little stage fright, anyway. If you’ve never had any experience being in front of a classroom or any kind of audience, you’re not ready to jump just yet. Being funny on stage doesn’t come from the jokes themselves, it comes from the way you work the crowd. If you know you don’t have those skills and you decide you want to do standup, practice on paper first.

That way, you have a chance to craft a joke out of something funny you said, because every joke tells a story regardless of length. You can’t just repeat what you said verbatim. You have to verbally set the scene so that the audience can not only hear what you’re saying, they can see it.

Spending time crafting your own jokes will also drive you away from the temptation to steal other comics’ work. You won’t have time, and it will seriously ice you from every comedian you’re trying to impress if they hear something another comic said before you. Too many people spend too much time trying to get noticed to have someone else get famous on their sweat. Listen to other people tell stories for styles that work, not the words themselves.

This leads to the most important thing about any kind of public speaking, but especially comedy. Find your rhythm. It has been proven that people remember words better if they’re set to a beat. Your voice is your music, so make it a song to go with your lyrics. Learn about dynamics, which words to accent and which ones to swallow as you move to the next. Standup comedy and storytelling are as mesmerizing as beats and hooks in rap if you can get the mood and tone just right.

Jim Gaffigan is a great example of this- he’s got a style and patois all his own. You remember his bits because his voice gets lodged in your brain. How many of you can’t hear him in your head singing the “Hot Pockets” jingle?

Another great example is Sam Kinison, who came up in Houston after being an evangelical pastor. He brought the dynamics of Southern gospel to comedy, and it worked for him. One of the funniest jokes he ever wrote, in my opinion, went something like this: “I don’t feel sorry for people starving in the desert. You’d think they’d be smart enough TO GO WHERE THE FOOD IS!” Memorable not because of what he said, but the way he said it.

Find your voice. No one wants to hear you doing your best Jim Gaffigan/Sam Kinison impression.

And finally, if you do nothing else, try to stick the landing.

I was tagged to do a blog meme on Stories! How exciting- my first one on this network.

1. Post these rules.
2. Post a photo of yourself and eleven random facts about you.
3. Answer the questions given to you in the tagger’s post.
4. Create eleven new questions and tag new people to answer them.
5. Go to their blog and/or Twitter and let them know they’ve been tagged.

Eleven Random Facts About Me

1. I was born at Mother Frances hospital in Tyler, Texas. Its claim to fame is an outstretched arms statue of Jesus that looks like he’s directing the traffic circle out front.
2. There are other people from Ireland whose last name is Lanagan, but they probably aren’t related to me. I forget the exact relation, but my ancestor was a sea captain during the cholera epidemic in Ireland and missed the whole thing. Just one of the lucky breaks that’s gotten me where I am today, I suppose. 🙂
3. I was a trumpet player all through junior high and high school. I can still play, but I’m nice, so I won’t.
4. There’s nothing I won’t eat once, and very few things I won’t eat twice. This is because I am gregarious about learning how to cook peasant food and elevate it to an art.
5. I am unemployed, but I have a donation box on my WordPress site and somehow I think that’s comparable.
6. My favorite t-shirt design in my CafePress store is “F*CK COMIC SANS!” in Comic Sans.
7. Years ago, I had a blog called “Clever Title Goes Here.” My one claim to fame is that Wil Wheaton left me a comment. My one claim to shame is that I don’t have it anymore.
8. I am married with cats, but no kids yet. As Rita Rudner once said, “we can’t decide whether we want to ruin our carpets, or our lives.” My wife is named Dana and someone needs to give her an award simply for agreeing to be married to me. I am a handful.
9. My favorite music is hip-hop, and it doesn’t matter whether it’s mainstream or underground. I live for the hook and the story. Easily the best story in hip-hop (in my humble opinion) is Eminem’s stark raving mad fan, Stan. I saw Talib Kweli a few months ago and I thought I was going to stop breathing. My love for hip-hop is real and it’s deep.
10. I love men’s fashion, and if I made enough money, I would spend hours upon hours shopping for clothes. They don’t even have to be for me, I love men’s fashion so much. If you ever need a present for your husband or boyfriend and you want it to be clothes, I’m the one you want with you. I have read every issue of GQ and Esquire for the last two years. People are weirded out sometimes that I like men’s clothes, but to me, the reason is obvious. Not all women look good in the colors that people want women to wear, and everyone looks good in colors like black, navy, grey, etc.
11. I have a goldfish tank. They’re all named Eric. It saves time.
    1. As a random bonus fact, Matt Smith is my Doctor. He is Eleven.

Questions from my Tagger:

1. Which out of the following two seasons do you prefer: Spring or Fall?
   1. I was born on September 10th, which may have something to do with it, but I prefer fall. I’m a Virgo, a natural busybee organizer that must have new pencils to start school even though she hasn’t started school in years.
2. If you could improve something about yourself, what would it be?
   1. I wish that I could just lighten up. I miss a lot of social cues because the ideas in my head are bigger than smalltalk and if I get lost in my head, it’s hard to find my way back.
3. What is your favorite movie of all time? (Yes, you have to pick just one.)
   1. Love Actually. If you can make it through Jamie’s wedding proposal without tears, you are a stronger person than me. I cry just about every time.
4. Who do you admire?
   1. I admire the millions and millions of people that get up every morning and make our world work. People that have pride in their jobs, especially garbage collectors and construction workers who are thanked very little but absolutely tantamount to our country’s success. No, I’m not running for anything. You’re welcome.
5. Do you have a best friend? If so, explain what you have in common and why this person is your best friend.
   1. I don’t have a best friend. Well, I did, but she’s my wife now, so the position has been vacant for some time.
6. Do you fear death?
   1. I do not fear corporeal death. I fear dying in obscurity without ever knowing what it feels like to get a million hits.
7. Are you in love?
   1. Desperately so. My wife is the love of my life, and I could not be who I am if she wasn’t who she is, either. Don’t make me talk about Dana too long, because I will choke up and cry all over my laptop. Sometimes people give you emotional gifts that are so big, you just can’t put them into words. Dana does stuff like that for me every single day.
8. If you were/are an actor, with whom would you most want to work with?
   1. I am not an actor, save for a few school and community plays. However, I enjoy the craft of writing scenes and acting very much. I think I would be best in a sketch comedy troupe, so I would most like to work with Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Lisa Kudrow, Margaret Cho, Kathy Griffin, etc. My absolute fall-over-and-die dream would be working in the writer’s room at either Saturday Night Live or South Park.
9. What is your ultimate goal in life?
   1. To be such a famous writer that people will know my name like they know Deepak Chopra or Wally Lamb or Toni Morrison- yes, those are all authors that have appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show. Coincidence? I think not. I want to be the one Oprah calls when she can’t think of a new book for the show. We’ll eat bonbons in our housecoats.
10. Has a movie ever made you cry? If so, list which one and why.
    1. It would be easier to list movies that don’t make me cry, like, I don’t know… I can’t think of a movie that wouldn’t make me cry in the right circumstances. Sometimes, things are just so sweet, even if it’s peeling someone’s eyelids with a knife to save someone you love. I’m deep like that.
11. Has a particular post on here WordPress ever touched you so deeply you felt the need to reach out to the author?
    1. I definitely want to share some blogger love, but to be honest, I’m just now starting up in the WP community. I have read little bits of a lot of things and very few all the way to the end. What I will say is that I’m grateful for all the bloggers that are willing to shed light on their dark places, because everyone knows they have them. Bloggers will talk about it.

Questions for the Tagees

1. Tell the story of how you got your name.
2. What is the most important relationship in your life?
3. I’m interested in food. Tell me about a food you didn’t like until you tried it X.
4. Do you have a favorite band that you’ve loved for a long time?
5. What was the first computer game you ever played?
6. Are you a geek? Are you Team Doctor Who, Team Star Trek, or Team Star Wars? Why? It’s ok to be all three, too.
7. Do you have favorite fonts for blog writing?
8. When you sit down to write, what’s around you? I’ll give you a for instance. I have a glass of water, a pack of gum, and several Jolly Ranchers. Do you prefer a desk, or do you sit anywhere with your laptop?
9. What do you do? I don’t mean for money. Your job doesn’t define you. Say you’re a financial analyst. If you want to talk about it, great, but I’m more interested in the financial analyst with an amazing green thumb.
10. If you have them, how did you make the decision to have children? If you don’t, do you plan to one day? Is it important to you?
11. I’ve often though I could be very comfortable as an expat in Baja. Do you have similar fantasies? Where would you live if you didn’t live in your home country?

Tag, you’re it!

1. Pete Armetta <http://petearmetta.com/>
2. Derek Maul <http://derekmaul.wordpress.com/>
3. Oh God, My Wife is German <http://ohgodmywifeisgerman.com/>
4. s. asher sund <http://sashersund.com/>
5. Confederacy of Spinsters <http://confederacyofspinsters.com/>

Last night, Dana and I were watching Doctor Who with our friend Matt, and all of the sudden, I knew I had a writing prompt. Everyone has those things for which they hold themselves responsible that damage them emotionally… You can release the anger and shame if you stop blaming yourself and start blaming the futures that never happened. Open yourself to the possibility that the path you took was just the one you chose at the time, and in that time and place, it made the most sense. It isn’t exactly that you made a mistake, it’s that you didn’t know what you didn’t know.

Sounds different, doesn’t it? The connotation of guilt lifts in a way that it hadn’t for me before. I could stop blaming myself for things that didn’t happen because I closed the door on them. I didn’t intentionally do anything to hurt anyone. I just made the best choice with the knowledge I had at the time.

Surely it is impossible to make the right decision without all the facts. But we in all of our beautiful humanness have a way of attaching ourselves to the things that never occurred in the first place and massaging them with worry. Understand that the things that could happen are infinite; there is no way that the mind is even capable of processing that much information in a moment’s notice. Additionally, processing outcomes is even harder when you stop to consider even one emotion, much less many.

The reaction I had to this realization freed me to look at my memories with stunning clarity. Mistakes aren’t mistakes when you look at them through the lens of being a fallible human being who closed the door on an infinite possibility because a decision was made, and not in a malicious way.

But it’s the malicious memories that haunt us the most, right? Those moments when our base selves coerce us into trouble because the dark side of ourselves demands to be fed. Our lizard brains tell us to make decisions that affect people negatively… maybe it’s because we’re trying to avoid pain… and in our darkest moments, hurting people just because we can- it feels so good sometimes, doesn’t it?

Do yourself a favor. When the urge to do something wrong hits you and you decide to go through with it (because we all have our dark sides whether we’ll talk about them or not), wait a few years until your perspective has changed and watch the scene over in your mind. Give yourself love and compassion because now you have a chance to look at what drove you to make that decision in the first place. Know that this in and of itself is healthy, and figuring out your own role in your own memories will give you the power to forgive.

You can, in a sense, be in a better place to acknowledge that something made you react poorly, and you can see all the futures that could have been had you not let your dark side come out. You can see that you were a total jerk in the moment, and you can tell yourself why. Knowing why you did what you did will encourage you to treat yourself with kindness, because you know you would forgive anyone else if they came to you with the same story, because it’s not that bad.

The sooner you can process your “dark side moments” and forgive yourself, the sooner you will be able to live in the moment, instead of berating yourself for the past.

There are so many things that I’ve picked up over the years that I wish had come to me years earlier. It would have saved me so much heartache, but at the same time, if I hadn’t gone through my experiences, I wouldn’t now be able to voice them unaccompanied. It is my hope that you’ll identify with this piece, and add your own pieces at the end. What do people need to know to get through life?

I wish someone had told me “not to surrender my loneliness so quickly” as I read by Hafiz as I turned 34. What a concept this would have been to me as a young person! So many people surrender their loneliness by always being in relationships, living alone but refusing to spend time at home, etc. Alone isn’t comfortable unless you make it so. Make space to be alone with your thoughts, not because it is easy but because it is hard. I hear President Kennedy’s booming voice in my head when I think it because it is so motivational. Of course the things that are most precious are also the things most hard-won. The pain of childbirth without medication is so horrendous (from what I’ve heard) that it’s got to be the main reason there are second children.

When you first start learning to be alone, it might feel like demons are slowly trying to eat their way out of your head… and by demons, I mean the things in your life that you regret. Every mistake, every malapropism, every time you’ve ever missed a social cue… it’s all there. Being alone is not about sitting with your demons, it’s about releasing them. Time by yourself is so unique, so precious, that you are squandering Mary Oliver’s “one wild and precious life” not to try it.

Remind yourself that you’ve been friends with yourself for as long as you’ve known you. You’ve built up more trust in your inner monologue than you have with anyone else. You should see what your running monologue has to say, and “talk back at it.” Everyone has those old tapes of horrible memories that run in their heads ad nauseum. Has it ever occurred to you that you can hit pause and examine what those videos are saying to you? Do you ever wonder if there’s anything that plays in your head that has nothing to do with your current reality? That if you stopped the tape and argued with it, you could, in a sense, put toothpaste back in a tube? If it helps you, get clinical. Think of yourself as the healer and your inner monologue as the patient. That way, you can look at your experiences without “flooding out.” I don’t know if this is really a thing, because I don’t have any letters behind my name, but I use it to mean emotions so overwhelming that you feel you have to run away from them… and then, you do. You become afraid of ever going to that dark place again. Dividing yourself in half and seeing yourself from the outside is the first step into the deep. Feel it out. If you can sustain looking at your memories long enough to watch them and pick one, you are well on your way to your first argument with yourself.

Fighting with yourself needs to be handled as lovingly as fighting with your partner. Just like fighting with your partner is a natural part of life, so is fighting with yourself. There are so many memories that happened while you were alone. Only you can solve that mystery. The miracle is that it doesn’t have to all be done at once. The important part is to keep trying to understand yourself, because if you don’t, you won’t understand anyone else, either.

Understanding yourself is a great way to walk in the world. It’s less difficult for other people to hurt you because you have an understanding of your lines in the movie. You know your motivations, and when you think about how people interact with you, you might start to see their motivations as well.

Because I’m a Texan, I’m sure there’s a fancier way to say all of this, but I won’t. All I’ll say is that knowing yourself is the best and most reliable bullshit detector you can possibly imagine.

Because I’m a nice person, I find myself in the middle of other people’s running monologues a lot. I was raised in the South, and I have not found a way to extricate myself politely while the logorrhea sprays itself on my shirt and pants. In the South, we don’t do much impolitely.

So here, without further ado, are the funniest things I’ve ever been told, as well as some that were uttered by strangers in malls.

1. Fight between women at Burger King over a man… of course, and it got very heated. It ended with, “No pickles, ya burger-flippin ho!”
2. Computer support call:

   “I just heard there was something going on with the network and my monitor is blinking on and off. Are those two things related?”

   “Ma’am, I hope not.

3. “I just have this problem where I roll in my wheelchair and I start orgasming and I just can’t stop.”
4. Computer support call: “Sir, I think you’ve plugged the power strip into itself instead of into the wall.”
5. Computer Support Call to classroom with students: “You’ve plugged the speakers into your microphone jack and that’s all that was wrong.” “Did you have to say that out loud?”
6. “I didn’t know anybody with cool hair like that would want this job.”
7. “No, no, honey… you have a picture of Angelina Jolie’s memorial titties.”
8. After getting David Sedaris’ attention: “oh… we do not yell” (cue fade to black)
9. I call communion wafers “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Jesus.”
10. After watching Star Trek: “We’re called ‘fooders’ now. We hate the name foodies.”

I filed for unemployment for the first time about a month ago. It’s hard for me to say that out loud because of how desperately I do not want to be unemployed. The reason I am not employed is no-fault. I’m not here to rag on myself or on my former employer. I’m just saying that there’s nothing that really makes you feel poorer than the unemployment web site. The good news is that it’s stupid simple to navigate and takes about three minutes a week.

I use the money for two specific purposes; the obvious one being that Dana and I need the money for bills, food, etc. The not-so-obvious is that it gives me a tiny little cushion to get my writing career off the ground. Do not write this off as a pipe dream. It will hurt me beyond belief.

I do not believe that this web site can support me, but what I do know is that I cannot be at an interview every moment of every day, so why not lay the groundwork while I’m at home? What could be a better example of trying to prove self-sufficiency than trying to make your talent work for you? It is so much easier to make a career on your own terms than having to work for someone else, and having a little part of that is better than nothing at all.

Dana and I had the most interesting conversation last night. The rundown is that basically she didn’t think I knew how to work for someone else, and not because I don’t have that skill set. It’s just that trying to fit MY brain into other people’s boxes doesn’t work very well, because the moment they try to define me, I’m a new iteration.

She basically told me to stop working for other people and lead them, because that’s where my talent lies. My talent is not in carrying out other people’s visions, it’s implementing my own. It was a way of saying, not so subtly, “stop hiding your light.” My wife gives me the courage to be myself, because if it weren’t for her, I would still be trying to fit whatever clothes society wants to put on me, and they are ill-fitting.

At the same time, though, I can’t live my whole life in the clouds (or as an IT person, in the cloud, I suppose). I have to put shoe leather into something. Whether it’s cooking, cleaning houses, bartending, whatever, I have to have something that feeds my talent. Writers that live in glass towers see experiences and rarely have them.

Those two ideas are constantly struggling within me, and in a way, it feels perfectly balanced. I have the opportunity to get my needs met in the short-term, and the ability to get my wants met later.

But while I’m working all of this out, would you mind going to Safeway and picking me up some COLA and a box of Hydrox?

You’re a peach.

Yesterday, I literally worked on my web site until I was damn near blind. This is because I am starting to get popular, and I need to have the framework in place before even more people start arriving. I did some UI (User Interface) corrections, as well as adding a PayPal donate button and a Facebook page that is my hope for the Fanagan Forum. I’d like to use it for discussion groups, sharing links, and just generally causing mayhem. That’s the one part of this web site that is completely yours. Impress me. Gross me out (well, try). Make it where on this web site, you make me laugh. I cannot uphold all this awesome by myself.

The Paypal donate button is not necessarily for huge donations- I know that some bloggers use Paypal to offer subscriptions for a year and stuff like that. I don’t want there to be a set amount that you have to pay in order to get access to content, but if you find something you really like, a buck or two would be great.

See, a lot of people don’t know this, but I’ve never made any money off my writing. None. So to put a dollar in this donation box is to turn me from an amateur writer into a professional one.

In short, give me a job. It doesn’t have to be fancy. I will adapt to the title of Communications Director or Organ-Grinding Monkey.

In any case, enjoy it here. This is your house. Turn off the light if you’re the last one out.